


The systemic entanglement of an invisible Constellation

by Asia191



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gryffindor! Iwaizumi Hajime, Gryffindor! Sawamura Daichi, Hogwarts! au, Hufflepuff! Bokuto Koutarou, Introvert, Kuroo's madly in love with Kenma, M/M, Ravenclaw! Akaashi Keiji, Ravenclaw! Kozume Kenma, Sentimental, Slytherin! Kuroo Tetsurou, Slytherin! Oikawa Tooru, Slytherin! Sugawara Koushi, Some of them are just mentioned, and Kenma is trying to study Astronomy, minor relationship too, presence of other characters, so I'm just putting Kenma and Kuroo as major characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia191/pseuds/Asia191
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>« However, at times like this, he understands there's not a real reason, a secret and unique answer able to quieten his hushed question. It’s Kenma, and at the same time it’s him, and probably it’s 'them', both. It was their first year at Hogwarts, their first meeting during the students change outside Potions, their accidental encounters at the library. It was the way Kenma quietly started pointing at books on shelves too high to be reached by him, or the way Kuroo had look puzzled at the shelf the first times before sensing the request of the Ravenclaw boy. »</p><p>Kenma studying Astronomy and Kuroo deciding to keep him company, until some sort of realization hits him hardly.<br/>[Kuroken] [HarryPotter!AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The systemic entanglement of an invisible Constellation

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I have to say I’m actually quite excited right now, honestly speaking. It’s the first time I try to publish something in english, ‘cause it’s not my native language and I never tried to write something more than comments in english itself. Moreover, I’m not actually sure my plan to do a fanfiction first in italian and then in english was really a smart idea, ‘cause they are two very different language. But still, I would like to thank Francesca too, ‘cause she helped me to translate and damn, wasn’t it a loong travel. Thank you for being my beta reader!  
> Anyway, I really wanted to share my ideas to you all, so here I am! Treat me kindly, please!

The first year Kuroo has gone to "Wiseacre's: Wizarding Equipment" in Diagon Alley, barely a week before the beginning of his first year as a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he has quickly realized that whatever it had been the subject which needed the equipment sold in that store, it would have never been made for him. He has really figured it at the very moment, an instinctive thought formed out as soon as he has crossed the threshold of the place, leaving behind him the solid wood coated with an intense and nocturnal blue only in order to notice how the same colour also painted with the same dark shade the interior walls and the ceiling of the space he was in, the sharp sound of a doorbell confirming in the meantime the closure of the just crossed door.  
The teenager’s eyes have swiftly lingered here and there, from the entry windows to the side walls of the room – that served as a background to ordinary telescopes and golden longer ones, with engravings on the border and around the lens’ housing, from the globes plated in a traditional golden chrome to the reproductions of stars and planets mostly unknown to the young boy, items that were radiating from the walls like branches or coming down from the ceiling as chandeliers, hovering in the air and revolving idly around their own axis gently driven by the air currents that the crowd of people inside the shop have been creating by moving around the place or going out in the street.  
And going on, concentric rings which swirled at different angles, miniatures of systems and planets that were rotating freely in cases closed by finely polished glasses due to a marked daily cleaning, or even rolled up scrolls closed by velvet straps, leather encased books, runes placed on shelves barely scratched by the passing of time and quill pens filed in fir cylinders finely decorated or free to move elegantly in the air, flanked by single or double cockpit acacia wood inkwells of a colour between marc and violet.  
Definitely, Kuroo has immediately understood that wasn’t the place for him. And he has realized it especially at the very moment in which his bronze eyes had gone to linger lazily on the bronze scales’ shelf, all those little doses of powders of different colours that were divided into strict rows of six which seemed to him genuinely all alike and all suspiciously similar to the dust the enchanted brooms of his mother were used to wipe away from home at least once a week.  
He has observed those incomprehensible dosages sceptically, studying them while keeping a little distance before asking himself, in a flash of interest came from who knows what cave of that raven black head, which effect they would have had in a cauldron when mixed in different amounts, thus risking to unfortunately let them drop on the floor exactly at the time in which, finally taking a flask in his hands to baffled analyse its contents, the store owner –Wiseacre? A possible Wiseacre’s relative? A greatgreatgreatson of the original Wiseacre? – has hurried toward him with an enigmatic ‘’ Attention! ‘’ that had almost made him lose his grip on what has then turned out to be a flask of delicate and utterly rare lunar fragments.  
Therefore it has been a day trip particularly deft, the one at "Wiseacre's: Wizarding Equipment".  
Whether it has been the rush of still having to buy the cauldron and several other books, or the mere and simple feeling of not belonging to that place, in any case the very young adolescent Kuroo Tetsurou at the time has not spent more than ten minutes together with all those items in balance in the air, carving out just enough time to buy the Moon’s map and the Star one, ask for the availability of a book and order a telescope to be sent directly to Hogwarts at the start of lessons. Then he has quickly left the shop, rejoining the company of his parents who had been waiting just outside and placing the freshly made purchases over the others already stacked on the cart, being quite careful not to drop the suitcase of the wand shortly before taken from Olivander – or better, “that had got itself taken” since “As I have already said to many students before you, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, Mr. Kuroo!” – or put something unintentionally above the brass cage— in a precarious balance on everything else— in this way antagonizing immediately the giant, short-haired black cat sitting idly inside it as a sphinx, the long tail in light movement, ears upright on the head and amber eyes already focused on the boy, studying him with thinned pupils and an unreadable expression.

  


«... Oho?» 

Kuroo’s thin lips just barely open, giving a hint of a smile characterized by a provocative angle more due to the shape of the lips themselves than to an aware will of smiling that way, while bronze eyes – still fixed calmly on the dark nocturnal vault – slowly go back to focus as physically possible on individual stars in the sky, giving the Slytherin guy both the awareness of the present and of being involuntarily wandering away through the memories in an attempt to recognize at least one or two constellations in the sky.   
It’s really ironic, thinking about how some memories are able to keep being imprinted in every detail in someone’s mind and how others, though being much more recent, can instead disappear into the oblivion soon after being lived. And it is perhaps more worthy of irony only the distance that the current Kuroo feels between himself and that kid who had gone in Wiseacre little more than six years before, almost as if those memories belonged to an other self, if not at least to an other life which has seen him as protagonist.  
It’s as if now, he supposes, he was so much accustomed to his current life that the only thought of having one -or have had, for what changes— far from Hogwarts is almost impossible, it becomes an extraneous thought imagining himself out of the perpetual sight of that prohibitive forest or of those towers and turrets against which he has often risked to crash during the first lessons of Flight occurred in common between his House and the Hufflepuff, spurred to a senseless challenge from a kid then a little taller than him with preposterous and bichromate hair in the tonality of grey and black.  
Koutarou Bokuto has been one of the first students outside of his House comrades with whom he has made friends, it was simply impossible to avoid him and it was just as impossible to avoid being transported by his incessant enthusiasm, his exaggerate emotionality or his difficult relationship with Grand Staircase. And if he thought better he couldn’t even comprehend how they had managed to escape expulsion at least once or twice, actually: Among the several nights spent to help his companion Oikawa to infiltrate in the library on the first floor much beyond closing time, or that time – first of many, there was to be added in all honesty – when they had risked their lives after having the unhealthy, very bad idea to convince – more or less peacefully and without any kind of expressive pressures, really – a young Gryffindor rookie to put in Daichi’s trunk a Fanged Frisbee.  
Ah, there it is– that really was one of the memories it would be better to end up in the famous oblivion. Daichi’s expression and the glance he had pointed to both of them when he had got to know of their guilt about that little incident was enough to make him meditate on the transience of life for many of the following days, frankly speaking.  
Anyway, trauma with the Gryffindor student apart, generally since he had joined Hogwarts his life has changed drastically. Quidditch matches, late nights studying and writing on endless parchments of researches and summaries in the Slytherin Common Room, among hoisted expressions of some and the one-sided conversations between Oikawa and the quill pens constantly dry on the other hand, and then even the first trip to Hogsmeade, which happened only a year before, where he and Bokuto have been essentially able to get an unlimited supply of Butterbeer by infiltrating, thanks to the not-too-veiled infatuation of Madama Rosmelta for Oikawa, into the "The Three Broomsticks".  
How they managed to get back to Hogwarts has been still a mystery to both, but Oikawa has claimed he had to go out and look up far and wide his "Gryffindor of trust" – Kuroo could swear he has called him just that way, perhaps a " -chan " more or less irremediably distorting his name which at the moment Kuroo can’t recall in memory – to bring them back with some difficulty to the platform 9¾ and preventing them to wake up the next day in the cellar of the place, surrounded by tubs full of red currant rum, gillywater, cherry syrup and soda and other things certainly not much adapted to a hangover.

  


« ... You should go, Kuroo. »

  


Ah, unbelievable- it is almost embarrassing, how unable he is to stay focused at least one full minute in order to look at that sky, which seems so incomprehensible to his eyes, without his mind beginning to wander through memories and thoughts that have so little to do with the reason he’s currently up there, on the highest tower of Hogwarts, just above the Common Room of the House the boy a few meters from him belongs to, and at the same time so far from the underground entrance of his own.   
And yet, despite the objective difficulty Kuroo has always had to understand something about stars and constellations during the course of Astronomy, thanks to which he basically had to close the subject with such a respectable D as Dreadful resulted from the last year O.W.L., even the slothful eyes of the Slytherin student take a few seconds longer than necessary to slip away from those erratic light sources that illuminate the deformed space otherwise dark above him, perhaps simply because instinctively attracted – as often happens – to what he has trouble understanding, and that escapes the gaze and interest of many. But eventually he gives up and his pupils lose their grip on the night, slowly slipping to his left and giving way to the remaining of his previous feline smile to relentlessly linger on the boy sitting at a couple of meters from him. Not that he’s able to see a lot of the younger one, of course.  
The already slight shoulders of the Ravenclaw boy are indeed bent forward, one leg – his right, closer to him – raised to more closely put the knee near to the silver and blue tie, the chest bent just forward towards a golden tripod – lowered the minimum allowed for logistical reasons of use – which is in turn in support of a long telescope adorned by the finely carved decorations and enhanced by the small points of light coming from the starry vault.

  


« Mhm–? Have you finished? »

  


He asks placidly, the feline eyes looking watchfully for an answer in the expression of his companion who though seems far from the will to give it, his gaze anchored toward the telescope without any possibility of consideration for the older one, in silence while the tapered fingers – these made even paler than they already are thanks to the light of the moon visible in the sky – move silently on the elegant frame of the telescope to the compartment of the lens.  
Kuroo observes the long blonde locks slip rebels from behind the just visible ear, softly framing part of the tender cheek and totally hiding the eye which is free from the impediment of the telescope, and he keeps studying him a few moments more, spying his movements while the other turns the mount slowly and in a calculated way, first clockwise and then counter-clockwise, eyes of a bronze colour weighing every single gesture made by the younger guy. Only after an interminable handful of seconds the other is finally away from the equipment in his possession, looking down at the parchment held between his legs and groping along the floor with his hands in semi-darkness looking for his quill pen that confidently remained beside him throughout the period that he has passed consulting the sky, though without taking his feline eyes off the paper.

  


« ... I still have to do the outer radius of the star map. ».

  


Now is Kuroo’s turn to remain silent for a moment, eyebrows slightly wrinkled to indulge a concern more obvious than ever in his eyes. Ah-these are definitely the times when he regrets the presence of Oikawa: Although he doesn’t crave his person beside him in situations like this, specifically carved out in order to spend some quality time alone with Kenma, and even if he doesn’t especially crave having to put up for the hundredth – two hundredth, thousandth, who really knows – time with his quite particular theories about stars, planets, alien life forms and so on, he has to admit that, if the other Slytherin student was up there on the tower too, there would be at least one person who would know what the other is talking about.  
Has he already said by any chance that that subject wasn’t made for him?

  


« Oh-? Why should I go then? » 

  


The younger one traces a few lines on the parchment, the quill pen lightly gliding on the sheet of paper occasional hesitantly, then slightly rasing from the document between breaks, while his face barely moves forward, thus allowing himself to look at the inside of the telescope again for a handful of seconds and then returning to complete the form with greater certainty. Kuroo sees him ceasing only after a few minutes, and after a long moment of stillness his gaze goes imperceptibly to look up and turn toward his direction, the younger one’s honeyed and timide eyes meeting the bronze older ones for only a moment before quickly lowering again, clearly unwilling to stay in the middle of that glances meeting more than necessary. 

  


« It seemed like you were about to fall asleep. »

  


He finally replies, meanwhile taking care of writing something indecipherable on the parchment, the quill pen slipping and leaving a cursive, narrow and elegant line and shoulders just folding due to the concentration, as well as for the probable and instinctive attempt to expose himself as little as possible to the glances the other is just as instinctively throwing him while taking a few moments to reflect on the answer to be given to the younger one.  
Falling asleep? Oh well, to speak frankly Kuroo would be more likely to appeal to hibernation or something more tragically pathological to describe his inability to concentrate on that evening, especially judging by the ease with which he ended up wandering through memories that aren’t exactly pertaining to the reason why he’s currently up there. But it is nothing that can be related to sleep, that’s for sure.

  


« C’mon Kenma, you know, I’m a creature of the night! I would never fall asleep so soon. »

  


« … Last time– »

  


« Not counting last time. »

  


« … »

  


Kenma raises again his eyes from the parchment, only to throw him a decisively distrustful glance, thin eyebrows furrowing imperceptibly while the normally elongated pupils round, reflecting the darkness which is drastically falling for a few moments on both of them because of the passage of a little cloud in front of the only source of the intense yet only reflected moonlight.

  


« – Really. »

  


Ah- Kenma is certainly not convinced. He can see it clearly, despite the younger one just lowers his gaze again apathetically to his words, toward the writings on his lap, indeed so explicitly that a voice response would be too much, compared to what he already inexplicably succeeds to reveal through his attitude. Kuroo’s eyes barely get thinner in the attempt to follow the Ravenclaw’s movements, whose hands come to rest meanwhile on the parchment, silently stretching it with small palms.   
Kuroo watches him staring at it for a moment, lost in thought, then lingering puzzled his honeyed irises on a particular point on the map that he doesn’t delay to point at -probably in order to keep the sign- while his torso moves forward again, an eyelid closing completely while the other remains open and cornea faithfully close to the lens of the telescope looking for answers to a question uknown to the Slytherin.  
Whatever the doubt is, in any case, Kenma seems to find some clarifications within that thing, so after a while there he was rising again from the infernal machine – how he was close to throw his down during the night of O.W.L. practical examination in Astronomy – not allowing his face to show any emotion in particular, of course, but betrayed by the speed at which he bends to write on the parchment some lines in addition to the side of the page, now traced here and there by small brands probably linked to the symbolism of constellations Kuroo studied the previous year with too little attention to remember their meaning. Who knows if studying the subject with the same perseverance of Kenma or Oikawa would have helped his skills in Astronomy to get some more points in the past. Or at least to pass the exam with a passing grade, considering the not exactly encouraging results with which he completed the study of that subject and largely due to the serious mismatch between him and the discipline.

  


« –Oikawa doesn’t think so. »

  


The voice of the Ravenclaw boy reaches the Slytherin one almost muffled, distant and uncertain, and in his inexperience with resuming conversations – especially when that seemed finished – Kuroo needs to take some time in order to reconnect himself to the topic he supposed Kenma is recalling, the right hand that goes in the meantime to rest behind his neck to massage it, head bent back and forth in hopes of warming up its muscles numbed by the evening air and quite immobilized by all the indefinitely amount of time he has spent with the other one looking at the stars.  
Really, Oikawa? Is he really talking about him? Ah–, now he really feels incredibly pleased with the idea of not having brought him that night. His enthusiasm of being mentioned as an example when he is present is only second to his pure excitement knowing he had been mentioned while absent, and the possibility of him hearing about the words of Kenma it’s enough to make Kuroo sure about not wanting him to, unsettled by the idea of his vanity making unmanageable to be around him for a long, really too long series of days.

  


« Oh come on, Oikawa? It’s difficult to understand if he even sleeps, sometimes. Everyone goes to bed early compared to him. I told you, if he weren’t sure to have dark circles under his eyes the next day or to fall asleep in class during lessons, he wouldn’t even bother to book a bed at the dormitory when he comes to Hogwarts, probably. »

  


Oho oho? And what about that look right now? Has he just seen that cute nose curling imperceptibly in dissent, or is the darkness of the night starting to make him confused by the other shadows? But– no, no. Despite the quite indolent appearances Kenma seem to have, to think that this person is not able of expressiveness is quite a mistake, and Kuroo knows enough the younger one to be sure what he has just seen is definitely an expression of dissent typical of him. It’s not very common to see it, fortunately, and to understand the rarity of that expression would be enough knowing that, since he approached the Ravenclaw boy the first time – He was attending what year, the second one? The third one? – he has seen that kind of gesture for the first time only after the school year was about to finish, at least. For this reason Kuroo is quite sure that even having the possibility to see that kind of face is a goal itself, in its own way, ‘cause it make clear not only that he knows Kenma intimate enough to encourage that kind of emotion in his person, but also that he can recognize gestures that could seem minimal to someone, but more than socially relevant if done by the raven boy.  
But really, what were we saying? Oh, yeah– So, the nose is slightly curled, his lips narrowed and eyebrows just frowning in a barely visible pout. In total, probably the most adorable contrite expression Kuroo have ever seen done by a wizard.

  


« Ah– don’t look at me like that! You know how he is, always between study and workshops– he really seems to be already preparing N.E.W.T., just by looking at how he’s putting efforts into all the subjects he has chosen to attend this year. You should see all the nights he passes studying Potions, I swear the other day he woke me up at three o'clock ‘cause he couldn’t remember if the asphodel had to be put into the cauldron with all the stem or just the petals, I don’t know if I need to say anything else–! »

The anecdote has served its purpose, since the expression the other one has now is far less pouting– And that’s almost a shame, from a purely aesthetic point of view. The Slytherin uses that rare instant to allow himself to fix in mind the image of that little pout just smoothed while his dignity pushes him into diverting his shameless attention from the other one, as he is now used to do since he realized the first time how much impossible is for him to avoid taking note of every little action the young Ravenclaw does. But still, he perfectly knows that is not the right time to think about certain arguments, neither the right company for those mental ruminations. Alone is best, alone is the right company, or with Bokuto, or Oikawa maybe– not with Daichi anyway, counting he has enough problems trying to understand those same feelings that bound him to the silver–haired Slytherin Kuroo has seen several times in their common room, and with whom the Gryffindor goes at the library everytime he has the opportunity to.

  


« ... Everyone bears sleepless nights studying Potions– »  
  


Ah, so that’s the problem. The feeling of wounded pride of a person who actually passes the night studying a subject too, or absorbed by some kind of hobby that requires an equal amount of sleep – dramatically low, needless to say.  
Kuroo’s lips open in an insightful and softened smile, his teeth white in the night and eyes focused on the companion, grinning even more when he notices the other one lowering his gaze by response.

  


« I don’t do it. »

  


Not for Potions at least, considering it seems to be one of the few subjects he’s really good at. Bokuto and Oikawa made fun of him for years, putting photoes of his face on all of the most popular Potionists and Alchemists’ pictures they found, and after the O of Outstanding at the O.W.L. tests at the end of last year and his actual choice to follow alchemy as optional subject at the beginning of the sixth, the situation seems to be slipped through his fingers.

  


« – You don’t need to do that. »

  


« –But I’m still part of the percentage, as a student. »

  


Oh, he absolutely doesn’t take the answer very well. Oh my God, if only he could capture that gaze forever; sometimes he simply can’t understand how anyone could even think about remaining impassive in front of expressions like that one.

  


« ... Ah–, give me a break, I can not do that. » 

  


And he really can’t do it, his gaze escaping from the other one in a very coward way while the Slytherin's face runs upwards, the palm of his right hand resting just under the forehead to cover to those eyes the giant view of the sky, of Kenma perhaps, or maybe of both, ‘cause he honestly doesn’t know where he could look right now, his head now more than ever incredibly full of such embarrassing as unnecessary thoughts.  
The older one feels the gaze of Ravenclaw on him, imagines golden eyes as fixed galleons studying every move he does, not without obvious traces of tangible concerns, and there is no need to disturb his palm to return the look the other one is sending him, discovering an other time – as the first time – the amber that lies between those long eyelashes, inscrutable eyes that the starlight dyed of a warm honey even in this dark, precious night.  
No, maybe he actually should return to settle his eyes right on the starry vault, rather than persevere in these masochistic thoughts. The hand is then put down and his eyes are looking back at the sky again, while a few feet away from him he hears the rustle of the quill pen used by Kenma slipping slightly on the parchment, a sign that the Ravenclaw has in the meantime come to the conclusion it’s actually more useful to return on his cards, rather than asking him silently answers Kuroo is not even sure he will ever have the courage to give.

  


« … »

  


He has to say, anyway, that the silence with Kenma has never bothered him. He doesn’t believe it is a matter of preference about certain kind of friendships, he simply finds equally pleasing as talking to the Ravenclaw boy, as having similar moments where they can simply enjoy the relaxing and family atmosphere created.

  


« ... Hey– » 

  


Kuroo awaits before continuing as his eyes look carefully at a particular point above them, waiting to hear Kenma’s hand stopping from writing on the yellowed paper, sign he’s listening whatever he wants to say.

  


« ... Is that the 'Rigel' star? »

  


Kenma looks up, trying to direct his gaze to the direction vector Kuroo’s eyes are supposedly creating, and the honeyed irises stop after a few moments on the same arc of the sky studied by the Slytherin boy, remaining passively fixed on what the Slytherin student at this point really hopes it’s at least a star, counting that the imperturbability of the other's gaze doesn’t even give any guarantees about the nature of what he saw. But it should be a star, right? At least judging by the inconstancy of the emanating light, so different from the permanent one of planets and satellites.

  


« Yes– » 

  


Ah thank goodness. Kuroo smiles, and eyes imperceptibly sharpen while a hint of pride spreads all over his face, already captured by a contrite grin of self–satisfaction.

  


« Oho oho? Then that is the 'Orion' constellation, right? I remember reading the myth at the library some time ago. It has greek origin, if I’m not mistaking– did you know they love to traumatize people and throw them in the sky, in the past? »

  


« ... I don’t think it worked like that. » 

  


« Hmm? Are you sure? ‘Cause I really remember it happening in so many myths. »

  


Kenma remains silent for a moment, as if he is actually thinking about the possibility of being wrong or just perplexed about the comments the other just made, before shaking slightly his head, his long locks moving harmoniously next to the neck, following his movements from right to left and vice versa.

  


« –I don’t know it »

  


Now it's up to Kuroo to remain silent, the mind a little baffled by the other's statement.

  


« … The myth? Wait, haven’t you done it in class? »

  


« No– »

  


Ah, so this year they change myth students have to study. That explains why Kenma is doing this year a program so different from his, or why the younger one has studied the Fornax constellation, a set of star he genuinely didn’t even believe existed until the Ravenclaw boy has talked about it a few days before.

  


« –Do you want to hear it? »

  


He turns to Kenma and waits for his reaction, until the raven nods briefly, his eyes still turned toward the stars.

  


« Well then– »

  


A moment of silence, that Kuroo used to move up his legs and place them slightly apart bending forward, his arms stretched and hands secured to the floor, to give support to the bust placed further back from the basin.

  


« From what I remember, Orion was the son of Poseidon, the God of the seas. He was beautiful and bold, although he had a rather traumatic early youth. He married two women while he was pretty young, the first time with Salda– No, maybe Sade, and then with Merope I believe, with whom he had various problems mostly for her father, who blinded him– Oh, do not look at me like that, it was not me who wrote the myth! »

  


Kenma looks at him with slightly troubled expression before going back to look at the star, his showed interest just above his personal mean but enough to spur Kuroo to go on.

  


« After that– if I'm not mistaking, even Aurora fell in love with him. But her feelings were not mutual, even ‘cause he preferred to devote his time to hunting instead, like the big alpha male he was– in the end he had become hunt’s companion of Diana, and by spending time in his company even the Goddess had started to admire the strength and the courage of him, ending up falling in love with him like the others. Even if it is strange if you think about it, counting that for many people she is the patron of virginity– »

  


« … »

  


« – Like I said. A morning like many others, Diana was walking through the woods awaiting for the arrival of Orion, when she was reached by Apollo, her brother. They began to talk about Gods’ things, you know, classic things we can’t understand, until they arrived in front of a river. In the distance there was a dark spot moving in the water, and Apollo dared Diana to stab at first shot with her arrow such a far away target. And let me say it, it was quite clear Diana could do that, counting she is the Goddess of hunt, too. »

  


« ... Kuroo– »

  


« – In short. He was still certifying his bet with Diana, she had already bent the bow and grabbed the arrow, and in an instant it darted away hissing straight against the target, sticking into it. The Goddess cried over her triumph, pride of herself, but just as she turned around to look at Apollo, he was already gone. And with that, you could easily understand how all this will end– »

  


Another moment of silence from Kenma, this time even without being assisted by any gaze.

  


« – Well, long story short, when the carcass approached Diana she could see what waves were carrying, and you can image the face she did when she identified Orion, inert, a silver arrow poked from the temples and his raven curls. The Goddess burst into tears, while the Orion dog howled in pain, both swollen with sadness. So Jupiter, moved by their ache, let Orion and his dog ascend to the sky between the other constellations – although I sincerely hope the dog was sent there after he died, otherwise it would be quite disturbing – and since then, on nights like these, Diana rejoices looking at Orion, armed with a golden sword and encircled by his armor, walk into the sky looking for animals to hunt, with the dog to follow him faithfully through the fields. And this is all! »

  


He finally ends, turning his gaze to look at Kenma, trying to track down on his still slightly hidden face a reaction to the story just recounted. Silence falls between them, but he actually doesn’t feel the need to fill it, appreciating at the very last that kind of tranquillity, so characteristic of Kenma and very characteristic of their friendship.

  


« … Is sad– »

  


Ah, he did not expect for the other to answer so fast, honestly. 

  


« Hmm? »

  


« – Seeing the person you love so close, but impossible to reach. Seeing him every day in the sky as he was, but being not able to touch him. Having him there for you, but not with you, it’s sad– »

  


The voice is light and quiet, yet the words are mixed with some kind of emotion that Kuroo can barely feel, and that is enough to make him lose a beat, maybe two too, while the synapses stop to function for a moment, the inside of his head on holiday for a second.

  


« ... Ah– »

  


He doesn’t really know how to answer to a comment like that, sincerely speaking. What can he say in front of a phrase that was virtually exposing his current situation, especially if the reason for this situation to be is the person who is summing up its basic concepts?

  


« This – I think it's the longest speech you have ever said to me, you know– »

  


He tries to laugh about it, but all that comes out from his mouth is a strangled laugh very no–ironic, scratchy like a defensive cat and too nervous for the comment just made by the other one.

  


« … »

  


Kenma looks at him in silence, studying him intently as those felines eyes seem to dig furrows on each wall Kuroo built to avoid the exposure of his awareness, that is now rising strongly inside him.

  


« ... I can understand what you mean, anyway– »

  


Ah, he surely understands, he can totally understand. His own feelings toward Kenma sometimes are like a stormy sea, impossible to control, especially when he sees him there, just in front of him, so close but – what has the other said just before? – Impossible to reach.

  


« And I suppose you're right, it is quite sad– »

  


Tragic, almost. Not what he feels of course, rather the inability to do anything to change the nature of their relationship. It’s tragic to experience certain emotions just by hearing a short sentence or looking at the little movements of the other. But he understood it long time ago, and always with the right amount of time he had learned how to live with it, letting his emotions implode in the quietest inner collapse every time he let himself thinking about it.

Still, there are times when even that long and conquered experience can do nothing against the daunting capacity of the Ravenclaw boy to make himself unconsciously adorable. A word, a slight curling of his little nose in front of certain foods, a frown to exhibit a small little pout – just implied but impossible to ignore – when someone remembers him his social duties or his most–that–requested participation at the Yule Ball, since he has passed the fourth year of school.  
Celebrations that Kuroo, on the contrary, loves. The music, the other students who fill the jars with potions not well classified as soon as the professors looked away from them, crowd making simpler to approach the long raised table where drinks and foodstuffs of various kind are served. And his friends weren’t to forget: laughters with Bokuto or the ironic quarrels between Oikawa and his trusted Gryffindor boy, usually started when the conceited Slytherin one – after having spent half the evening surrounded by crowds of girls of different school years – was extremely offended by those two or three girls who ended up timidly to ask his friend to invite them for a dance, all of that while Daichi and his library companion spoke freely, sitting at large oval table smiling at each other, occasionally tossing greetings to their friends. Since Kenma and others belonging to his year became able to join the ceremony, moreover, things had gotten even more– particular. Among Bokuto and his more than obvious attempts to get noticed by Kenma’s fellow room mate, Akaashi if he caught the name correctly, or the suspicious amount of time used by the boy with blond hair to disappear far longer than necessary as soon as dances were opened, only to reappear magically at the sweets table later on, approaching silently the apple pies’ wedges scattered all along the counters.  
Yes, Kuroo is aware more than everyone that he and Kenma are really two opposites, especially considering their hobbies or companies they hang out with – or doesn’t hang out with, in Kenma’s case.  
Yet, sometimes he hypothesizes the secret of their relationship is just right there, in their difference. Other times, however, he lets himself suppose it resides in their ability to understand each other even without explicitly speaking about that topic. Or maybe the secret resides simply in the amber of those watchful and felines eyes, and in the way they seem to reflect in the Kuroo’s golden and sharp twin ones, fixating on his retina and in the Slytherin boy’s mind at every gaze and at every brief encounter he shared with the younger one.

However, at times like this, he understands there's not a real reason, a secret and unique answer able to quieten his hushed question. It’s Kenma, and at the same time it’s him, and probably it’s them, both. It was their first year at Hogwarts, their first meeting during the students change outside Potions, their accidental encounters at the library. It was the way Kenma quietly started pointing at books on shelves too high to be reached by him, or the way Kuroo had look puzzled at the shelf the first times before sensing the request of the Ravenclaw boy. It was probably the bold smile Kuroo hurled to Kenma from time to time when he succeeded surprising the younger looking interested about something, or even the quiet afternoons spent practising in spells outside the school walls, under trees with trunks just too wide not to have seen at least their great–grandmother attend the academy.

  


Their relationship arose like any other ones, of course. There was no hidden reason why Kuroo decided to make friends with Kenma, nothing but simple curiosity for a boy far too quiet, shy and damn lazy he can’t stop meeting by chance around the castle at the most unexpected circumstances, in company of that young Ravenclaw boy Bokuto wanted with so much emphasis to chat up with.  
And not that Kuroo didn’t have any emotional experiences with other female students of his or other houses during the last five years at Hogwarts, of course. He had even spoken to Kenma about them the first times too, his palpable excitement collided with the face’s apathy of the younger one, who didn’t stop him nonetheless, allowing the Slytherin student to expose those childish soliloquies about first loves that had busied the days of both for a long time.  
It’s three, the number of relationships Kuroo had been before realizing that something was off and that the feelings he was beginning to feel towards Kenma were changing, imperceptibly but surely, to something very different from a simple affection between friends. And if that wasn’t enough, it probably was enough the way he started to mind–wandering while he was with his last girlfriend, to cancel dates with her to meet and invest time doing activities with the Ravenclaw student.

During the middle of the fourth year, it was clear that what he hoped to have with Kenma was more than just a simple friendship. Not that he had accepted it immediately, clearly– and sure enough, his hesitation had also been quite understandable. Why had he enveloped a similar interest? Why was his friendship with the Ravenclaw boy not enough for him? Could that made him– not fully heterosexual? Oh God, he hadn’t really thought about it, had he? And– least but not last, what would his friends think, then?  
And so, in the end, he hadn’t spoken to anyone about it. Fear not to be liked, or to be liked less than in the past, or of being seen in a different way, all of them had been sufficient reasons to hide those kind of emotions the company of Kenma arose in him or the messy thoughts articulated in his mind when the younger ended up falling asleep with his head on Kuroo’s legs while following the attempts of Bokuto and Iwaizumi – that's the name of that mysterious Gryffindor boy, now he remembers – to beat Akaashi at Wizarding Chess, the Gryffindor guy yelling at Oikawa to help him instead of being busy studying an unknown subject at the side of the long table inside the Big Hall.

How long the period of actual coverage of his emotions lasted, he doesn’t have any clue. But what he’ll never forget for the rest of his life is the expression on Oikawa’s face the day before the winter holidays during their fifth year, both lying on the sofa of the Slytherin common room, eyes of his friend fixed on him and one question said with placidity, left to hover above them almost indolently.  


  


“ When are you going to declare yourself to Kenma?"  


  


It was that the occasion where he realized his friends would never change their opinion about him for a reason like that one. And always in that occasion, he realized how unbearable it would be for him to spend the rest of his years at Hogwarts without letting the young Ravenclaw boy knowing his feelings. Oikawa was really a good friend.  
... Despite all.

  


« Kenma – »

  


« ...? »

  


«Will you come to see the Quidditch match, this Saturday? »

  


'Will you come to see me', he would rather ask. The eyes of the Slytherin student turn toward the other, and he smiles softly noticing the irises of the younger – already staring at him – instinctively slipping away from his gaze, like a domestic cat realizing suddenly to be pointed by a giant feline met accidentally on the highest tower of Scotland's most famous school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

  


« ... Saturday– »

  


Is he thinking about it? Is he not? Kuroo realizes he’s holding his breath and lets himself having some little and quick ones, or at least to try to do so, feeling immensely stupid in the meantime at the idea of having a near panic attack for a trivial presence at a trivial match that sees everyone above some trivial broomsticks.

  


« –Did you think I would not come? »

  


... Ah–. Now he feels a bit dull. Kenma steals glances at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his shy expression stained by the perplexity set on that little face characterized by those soft and elegant traits Kuroo simply adores. Of course, of course. Naturally– the face of Kuroo bends down, a warm and embarrassed smile pulling up the corners of his mouth while a puff of a laugh slips away from those rosy lips, the head sated by an indefinite number of locks some of them falling in front of his eye and hiding almost entirely the right side of his face, the upper ones defying the law of gravity and avoiding to follow them only thanks to those perennial dizziness able to resemble to everyone a version of him just emerged from his bed.

  


« I– Ah, forget it, you– just forget it, ok? »

  


Oh, Kenma is definitely, without any doubt perplexed now. And Kuroo can’t avoid wondering idly what he's thinking, letting a hint of a laughter slightly choked before deciding to stand up, stretching the folds of the dark pants with his hands and adjusting the long black and green cloak as best as he can. He takes a few steps toward the Ravenclaw boy then, and only when he’s close enough to the other student he slightly bends over with his chest, placing a hand on that two-coloured mane and rubbing the hair with his fingers, his eyes inevitably inked by an affection difficult to conceal.

  


« I'm counting on you, then. »

  


He simply whispers, before daring a dashing smile while getting up with his bust, walking toward the wooden door that linked the inside of the castle with the tower. The fabric of his long cloak rubs against the petroleum green sweater and the dark pants that hide within it, and after few moments Kuroo is in front of the heavy door marked by those ancient irregular veins, his hand resting on the iron handle.

  


« I'll wait inside, you are almost done at any rate, right? »

  


He turn just in time to notice Kenma nodding a few times, quickly, and he could actually think to say something about the slight blush that has just expanded on the cheeks of the younger one– but it would be just too much right now, just too hard to find words or to have any kind of conversation at the moment.  
He nods then, quite stupidly considering there’s no need for that action, and before he can make himself more awkward than necessary he opens the door, returning into the old stone tower and closing the cold and damp door just behind him, remaining a few moments silent and motionless, his hand still resting on the metal handle.

Ah– Ah, damn.

And he can’t do anything but lie down on the ground, face, neck and ears completely flushed while the right hand slides between the strands of the lateral fringe fallen in front of his eyes and that he attempts to bring back, although the gravity reveals almost immediately the futility of his action.

  


'When are you going to declare yourself to Kenma?'

… – Saturday could be a good day to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Aahh first of all, thank you for finishing it! ♡ The announce (?) initially said 1/1 'cause at the very beginning I thought about closing it as it is, but I'm so sorry for Kuroo (...) so consider it opened, 'cause I would like to do it-- About me, I'll pray against my laziness, and for my will to write. (...) Thank you for your patience!


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